crashing into your atmosphere
by dreamembers
Summary: When Seth goes out to investigate the noise in his apartment, he discovers he isn't the only one startled to find someone else claiming it's their apartment. He's just the only sober one. (aka, an "i broke into the wrong apartment while drunk" au)


Seth is startled awake by the sound of someone charging into a door.

He glances at the clock – 2:29am – and rolls his eyes. _Probably just Roman._ Roman has become somewhat infamous in the building for his key-losing habits. When he's sober, he's probably one of the most sensible guys you'll ever meet. When he's drunk… well, the sensible portion of his brain seems to simply clock out for the night.

Apparently his best friend, Ambrose – he can't quite remember if he was Dan, Dean or Don, but his surname stuck in his mind – is even worse. He's heard countless tales about the other man through Roman. He insists, though, that his friend isn't a bad guy as such. Just. He's a bit wild, does stupid things when he's drunk _and_ sober. Aside from that, Roman assures him he's harmless.

In fact, Ambrose moved into the building last week. Seth saw him carrying boxes up the stairs, dressed in a pair of worn-out jeans and a black tank top.

And maybe, just maybe, Seth stood staring at his retreating figure for a moment or two, admiring his slender waist in comparison to his wide shoulders and delicious arms. He would've introduced himself and offered to help with his boxes had he not been rushing into work that morning.

With a shake of his head he halts his train of thought, ignores the sound, and lets his head fall back onto the pillow.

He bolts upright at the sound of glass shattering inside his apartment. _OK. Definitely not Roman._

Taking care to be quiet, he pads across the carpet to the corner of the room. Propped against the wall is an unused acoustic guitar. Not exactly the deadliest weapon – but if he gets in a good shot he could probably knock the intruder out and tie him up until the cops arrive at least.

Gripping the neck of the instrument tight, he stops at his bedroom door to check the hallway which is basked in light. All clear, but one of the windows looking out onto the balcony has been shattered, curtains dancing in the breeze. And when he moves further down the corridor he notices that, along with the shattered window, there are the remnants of a beer bottle sprayed across the floor.

He doesn't have much time to wonder what the _hell_ is going on, because he soon finds himself being tackled. Seth winces as his chin cracks against the wooden flooring, but manages to at least flip onto his back to get a look at his intruder before he is pinned down by a large pair of hands pressing against his shoulders.

Wild blue eyes are staring down at him, and Seth momentarily finds himself trapped by more than just the thighs bracketing his torso. Equally wild curls – brown or blonde, he can't quite tell – sit atop of his head, some strands falling in front of his eyes. Seth quickly shoves the strange urge to gently brush them to the side into a box in the back of his mind.

"Fuck're you doing?" The man grunts. His voice is low, gravely, kinda slurred, but still quite hot. Whether Seth finds himself wanting to hear the man speak more or not, this guy has some audacity. Breaking into his apartment then asking Seth what he's doing in such an accusing tone. What kind of burglar _is_ he?

"The fuck am _I_ doing? You're the one breaking into my apartment!" The man… frowns? Why the hell is he frowning like that? Like he's... like he's _confused_? And who in the hell gave him the right to look so damn cute as he furrows his eyebrows? Why the hell is Seth thinking about how cute the guy _that just broke into his apartment_ is? Perhaps Seth is more sleep deprived than he originally thought.

"No no no," the guy shakes his head, "you- _you're_ the one breaking in _my_ apartment."

"This isn't your apartment!"

"Is too! Moved in last week. Can– gotta buddy that lives here. He's– he's on the third floor. Call him. Yeah do that, I'll– I have m'phone. He'll tell you. Roman'll tell you."

" _Roman_?" Seth chokes, eyes wide in disbelief, "are you– are you _Ambrose_?" The man's mouth falls open slightly; his head nodding slowly while eyes regarding him with suspicion and intensity that makes Seth squirm uncomfortably, "I'm one of Roman's friends... Seth. Seth Rollins."

Ambrose sits up, folding his arms across his chest, "Seth Rollins," Ambrose looks to be rolling the name around in his mouth, testing it, "Seth Rollins. Yeah. Think- think Roman mentioned y'. Yeah." Ambrose mutters, blue eyes still fixed on nervous brown ones and... he's chewing gum. Was he chewing gum before?

"I think you've, uh, got the wrong apartment. This is the 5th floor. Think you're further up." Seth offers. Dean stares at him, a frown slowly settling on his face.

"5th? Shit. Oh fuck, sorry, uh. Sorry 'bout y' window."

Seth waves the apology away, there's nothing that can be done now. He's just thankful it was someone that isn't likely to bludgeon him to death before stealing everything he owns. (At least. He doesn't think Ambrose will. He's a friend of Roman's, and any friend of Roman's must be a decent guy, _right?_ ).

A strangely comfortable silence surrounds them for a moment, until Seth notices Ambrose is swaying– oh God he's going to pass out right on top of Seth isn't he? His hands reach out to grip Ambrose's waist, fingers accidentally – _definitely_ accidentally – slipping underneath the white t-shirt and brushing against warm skin.

"You look like you're gonna pass out." Seth says just as Ambrose's eyelids flutter. There's a hum of agreement – or perhaps it's a response to the way Seth's fingers have apparently slipped around to trace tiny circles on Ambrose's lower back. He considers moving them but. But it's nice; it's been too long since he last held someone like this, even if it _is_ his friend's best friend who not half an hour ago broke into his apartment. Seth briefly wonders what the _hell_ he's doing, wonders why the hell his brain is apparently acting of its own accord without even taking a second to think.

"Would you mind if I pass out on you?"

"The floor isn't exactly comfortable..."

"Would you mind if I pass out on you _on your bed_?" All it takes is a split second of hesitation and Ambrose's eyes are fluttering open again, a smirk tugging at his lips, "g'nna go any sec now so if y' don't want me passing out..."

"Right, right," Seth shuffles Ambrose to the side, leaving him to lean against the wall until Seth's on his feet. He then bends down and loops an arm around Ambrose's waist, encouraging one of the large arms around his shoulders, "I must be nuts."

Ambrose snuffs a laugh through his nose, "s'alright. I like nuts."

Seth isn't sure in what way he's supposed to take that. But the thought of it being intended as an ' _I like you'_ kind of flirtation causes Seth's head to race, cos the guy's head is on his shoulder and he's. He's kinda cute, in an annoyingly rugged way. And the thought of it being indented as even slightly crude just makes Seth's stomach flip against his will. It's been too damn long since the last time he got laid. Yeah, that's what he'll blame this strange attraction on. Nothing more than Seth just being desperate. So he'll just take it as an enjoyment of the kind that Seth's allergic to and throw everything else out of his mind before he does something fatally stupid.

Eventually he manages to deposit Ambrose on his bed, the guy falling face first with a heavy _flump_. A couple seconds of silence pass, and Seth begins to wonder if he's fallen asleep.

"I'm not taking your shoes off for you so you'll have to do that yourself."

With a sigh, Ambrose toes off his boots before slowly rolling onto his back. Seth's eyes are immediately drawn to the sliver of toned stomach that is now on display thanks to the movement that has caused his t-shirt to ride up slightly and… he looks good. God, he looks _really_ good. All laid out on his bed, smirking as if he knows he effect he's having on Seth's heart, "an'thing else you want me to take off?"

"Thought you were about to pass out?"

"Could hold on for a little longer if you have any... _plans_." He's dragging his tongue along his bottom lip at a tortuously slow pace and _fuck._ It's definitely been too long.

"The only plans I have are sleeping," he makes his way over to the drawers at the other side of the room, but quickly faces Ambrose again to add, "and before you say anything - I don't do drunk fucks or fuck drunks."

Seth manages to pull out a pair of sweats that he figures should fit before the other man speaks again, "would y' fuck me if I wasn't drunk?"

"I– yes, no, maybe, I don't– I don't know, just put these on, they should fit." He tosses the pants at Ambrose and escapes to the bathroom, closing the door on his… guest (he supposes – his strange, drunken, infuriatingly attractive guest) just as the jeans pool around his ankles.

In the privacy of his own bathroom, Seth allows himself a moment to recover. As he stares at himself in the mirror, he immediately notices the deep flush on his cheeks, probably why Ambrose was smirking like he just figured out some big secret. Seth groans and turns to lean against the counter, ignoring the way it digs into his lower back.

He knows he should be incredibly angry at the guy currently in his bedroom, all dishevelled and wearing the sweats that Seth gave him without a second thought, instead of standing in his bathroom with a heart racing at a hundred miles an hour like some cliché love-sick teenager.

He knows he should've kicked the guy, who apparently smashed his window with a beer bottle, out of his apartment instead of offering him a bed – _his_ bed – for the night when instead he could've helped him back to his _own_ apartment. God. What the _hell_ is he doing?

He knows if it was anyone else, his reaction to this whole situation would be drastically different, but he's giving this guy, pretty much a stranger, some sort of preferential treatment because–

"Hey! You coming to bed?" That voice from the other side of the door calls. _'You coming to bed'._ It sounds to effortlessly natural, and Seth hates the way he _likes_ it. Hates the way it makes his stomach flip.

"Y-yeah, just. Just gimme a sec." Sharing a bed with a stranger. This is by far the stupidest thing he's ever considered, but it's Seth's apartment, and he refuses to sleep on the sofa while a guy he didn't even invite inside sleeps in his warm bed, and at least he won't have to deal with Ambrose complaining about being sore, _on top_ of the inevitable hangover, in the morning.

He reminds himself that they share a mutual friend, and that he surely can't be that bad if Roman's friends with him. Roman's never given him any reason not to trust him, never given him any warnings or told him about how bad a person he is...

Seth drops his head to take a deep breath, and in that moment, Seth belatedly realises that the only thing he's wearing is a pair of tight, black briefs, and that the rest of his sweatpants are in the wash so he can't change and cover up. No wonder Ambrose's eyes kept dropping to settle on his chest and farther down. With a curse, he decides to suck it up and step back into _his_ bedroom. If Ambrose wants to check him out, then he can. Not like Seth'll complain about it.

Ambrose watches him as he walks over to the bed, but stays silent. He's lying on his stomach, face half buried in the pillow, eyes half-closed. As Seth pulls back the covers and slides onto the bed, he turns to lie on his side.

"Was starting to think you'd fallen down the toilet," Ambrose murmurs, letting his eyes slip shut. Seth finally caves into his urge and reaches out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind the ear of his guest. That earns him another appreciative noise and Seth smiles, shuffling closer to the warm body beside him, "thought y' didn't do drunk fucks," Ambrose doesn't even try to stifle the yawn, but does tuck it into the pillow, and Seth doesn't find it cute. Not at all, "or fuck drunks."

"I don't. You smashed my window and now there's a draft. Think you owe me a bit of warmth."

Ambrose yawns again – until now Seth wasn't even aware yawning was cute. He's losing his god damn mind – then says, "don't even know me, but y' wanna cuddle me?" A blue eye cracks open to regard Seth with an amused look as Seth starts spluttering over his response, and then there's an arm being thrown over his waist, pulling their bodies closer, "m'not much a cuddler. Better get least a kiss in the morning f'this."

"Play your cards right and I might even spare you the bill for a new window," the only response he gets is a breathy laugh before Ambrose lets his eyes close again. He looks surprisingly boy-ish and innocent when he's relaxed, not at all like the rugged man that tackled him in his corridor. He knows he's on the cusp of sleep, so Seth feels like the biggest jerk when he disturbs him and whispers, "hey. Never caught your name. Like, first name."

"Dean."

"Like James Dean?"

"Sure. 'ever y'want. Jus' lemme sleep."

"Whatever I want?"

" _Seth."_ Dean whines, though there are traces of slight laughter. Seth realises just how much he likes hearing Dean say his name. He's half tempted to say something else, see how Dean would react, but in the end he just mumbles an apology before allowing himself succumb to sleep.

* * *

Seth buries is face further into the, strangely warm, pillow and tightens his grip when it begins to move. His pillow grumbles in response.

Wait, _what_?

He blinks a few times, eyes adjusting to the light flooding his bedroom – he must've forgotten to draw the curtains – and reaches up to scratch his shoulder when he comes into contact with a hand. A hand that isn't his. In a moment of blind panic, he snaps his head backward to see who the hand belongs to, and sighs when he realises that his pillow is, in fact, not a pillow. It's Dean Ambrose's chest. Memories of the night's previous night quickly come back to him and he smiles down at the sleeping man, slotting in beside him and setting his head on the pillow. Seth finds himself thinking he could get used to this – waking up next to Dean – every morning.

His thoughts are cut short at the sound of five sharp knocks on the door.

For a second, he considers answering it, but then he drags his eyes over the sleeping face next to him and decides against it. Instead he nestles closer to Dean, his nose brushing the other man's temple.

At the sound of several more knocks, Seth groans, causing Dean to chuckle, "you not gonna get that?" Dean's voice is laced with sleep, throaty and low. It's irritatingly endearing.

"No. Wanna stay–" the knocks have transformed into loud thumping now, and Seth sighs "–here. S'pose I'd better go see who it is though," reluctantly, he sits up, stretching his arms above his head, and turns to get out of bed, but turns back one more time, "you don't seem to be freaked. You remember last night?"

Dean nods slightly, "head's aching, but yeah, I remember. Remember you promising me a kiss in the morning, too."

"I'll go grab you some painkillers." He manages to throw the covers back before Dean grabs his wrist.

"Want my kiss first."

"It can wait."

"Can't." Dean pouts, and Seth is helpless. Is this really the same guy who broke into his apartment? The same guy Roman told him about? Or perhaps, he wonders as he begins to leans down, this is just a side of Dean that's kept hidden, the dimples that emerge when he grins at Seth almost like a trophy that you have to earn.

The first time their lips brush isn't anything spectacular; it's almost clumsy, their noses knocking together awkwardly as they try and settle into it. But when eventually Dean captures Seth's bottom lips between his, Seth swears he can feel as a spark shoots around his body before setting his heart ablaze. Their undoubted morning breath doesn't even cross his mind, all he can focus on is the way Dean none too gently nips at his bottom lip before replacing teeth with a soothing, apologetic, perhaps even hopeful tongue. Seth parts his lips, moaning softly as Dean intensifies the kiss, one hand settling on Seth's waist, another helping itself to a handful of black and blonde hair.

Without breaking the kiss, Seth shifts to rest between Dean's parted legs and finds he isn't the only one half-hard with heated interest. His arms move to bracket either side of Dean's head with his forearms. Dean hums, using his grip on Seth's hair to tug their faces impossibly closer, and his lips begin to journey along his jaw line…

Until the unmistakable sound of Seth's phone breaks the silence.

Seth grunts in annoyance, cursing under his breath and letting his head slip so he can bury his nose into Dean's neck. The way he feels perfectly comfortable displaying such signs of affection towards a man he barely even knows outside of shared tales makes Seth feel a little uneasy. He's never been like this before. But when he feels a kiss being pressed against his hair followed by a chuckle, he finds it hard to become too concerned. It's an incredible feeling, really. New and exciting.

Without so much as a glance, he reaches out to feel around for his phone, which is always left on the bedside table. When he can feel the device in his grasp, he props himself up on his forearm to look at the caller I.D. He almost cracks out laughing as he answers the phone, watching Dean's face as he speaks.

"Hey Rome." Seth has to bite back a laugh again when he watches Dean's eyes bulge, a grin breaking out on his face.

"Hey, you gonna let me in or what? You said I was entitled to one breakfast and I'm cashing it in."

"Can't, uh. Can't you wait? I'm. I'm... busy," Dean quirks an eyebrow, but thankfully stays silent.

"I'm sure it can wait."

"Fine, gimme me a couple minutes." Seth huffs. He hangs up and placing the phone back on the bedside table, then grunts and turns back to Dean.

"It's Roman at the door. He wants breakfast."

"You always cook him breakfast?"

"Nah, he helped me fix my laptop a couple weeks ago and I said he could come over for breakfast as a thanks one day. Typically, he chose _today_ to cash it in." Seth slides off the bed and makes his way into the bathroom to clean his teeth. When he returns, Dean's sat against the headboard, blunt nails scratching absently at his left shoulder. He has to shake off the feeling that this feels so right, almost _too_ right.

"So... you told Roman you were busy? What were you busy with?" Seth flushes and chokes, much to the amusement of Dean who grins, eyes gleaming. Seth darts around the bedroom, trying to tug his skinny jeans up his legs. He doesn't want this conversation, he barely knows the guy. He doesn't. He can't- "I mean, we've only known each other a couple hours, Seth. What makes you think I'm that easy? You gotta romance me a bit first, y'know."

Seth levels Dean with an unconvinced look before looking down once more, his fingers fumbling unsuccessfully as they attempt to fasten the button, "damn thing."

"Here. Lemme help," Seth begins to protest but before he can get his words out, Dean is there in front of him, standing almost chest-to-chest. His calloused fingers make easy work of the metal, though they linger a couple seconds longer than necessary. He has to suppress a groan as his mind begins to wonder if Dean could undo them just as easily. He hopes his black jeans will conceal his increasingly excited dick from Roman, Christ, "there," Dean's voice suddenly drops to a mere whisper, blue eyes fogged with something that Seth can't quite name, but it's enough to make his heart leap, "all ready."

"Thanks." Seth's pretty certain there's something in the air; something buzzing, making his head spin. Is it possible to get drunk on someone's mere presence? Roman's knocking on the door, shouting through, but neither men move. Dean's fingers drift from his button to his face, sweeping a strand of blond hair out of the way and leaving a burning trail in their gentle wake.

"S'pose I owe ya. Y'know. For not smashing that guitar over my head when I crashed through the window." There's a sheepish smile blossoming as Dean speaks, his hand reaching back to rub at his neck. Seth can't help but smile back.

"Right. Well. I'm gonna go start breakfast. You can stay if you want, there's, uh. There should be a new toothbrush in the cupboard if you wanna use it? And some painkillers as well, if you want." Dean looks as if he's about to say something – something probably crude or corny, or even both – but Dean seems to shake the idea from his head and instead opts to quietly thank Seth before making his way to the bathroom while Seth makes his way to the front door.

When Seth finally opens the door, he's instantly hit with a barrage of questions from the large Samoan that entered the apartment. He'd met Roman several months ago when the other man first moved into the building after offering to help move some of the boxes. Over time, they'd become friends, great friends in fact. Seth could tell him anything, and he wouldn't ever have to worry about being judged. Despite his intimidating appearance, Roman is one of the kindest guys Seth has met.

"Thought I was gonna die of starvation out there, man! What took you so long?"

"Good morning to you too, Roman. Yes, I slept very well, thank you for asking." Roman merely rolls his eyes and follows Seth into the kitchen, leaning back against the counter as Seth sets everything he needs out on the counter and cracks three eggs into the frying pan.

"Sorry. Just curious. For a while I thought you had a guy over and you were hiding him from–" there's a bang from the bathroom, followed by a curse. Seth turns his attention back to the bacon, his teeth keeping a hold of his bottom lip to hold back his laughter. He can't believe this is actually happening, "you do! Holy shit you have a guy in your bedroom! You finally got yourself laid!"

"OK firstly, fuck you. You say that like I _need_ to get laid, which I don't. And second, nothing happened. He just stayed over. We made out a bit this morning, but nothing else."

"So who is he? How'd you meet him?" Seth flips the bacon and opens his mouth to respond, but he's cut off by another voice.

"Just the usual, got drunk and broke into the wrong apartment thinking it was mine. Thankfully Seth here is _very_ accommodating."

" _Dean?_ " Seth grins down at the pan, trying desperately hard not to laugh as Roman chokes on his friend's name in sheer disbelief, "you- you… and _Seth_?"

"I can't decide if I should be offended by that," Seth remarks. He smiles when strong arms wrap around his waist, a nose tucking under his ear. He tilts his head slightly, enough to rest against Dean's, "hey."

The arms around him tighten slightly and Dean's head moves back enough for him to press a kiss to Seth's cheek. He can feel the way Dean's lips are upturned into an undoubtedly blinding smile, "hey." Then the chin returns to its perch on Seth's shoulder.

The sound of Roman's fake gagging ruins the moment for Seth, and apparently Dean too, judging by the way his hand darts out to grab the towel sitting on the windowsill and then launches it in the general direction of his friend. And judging by the _"oof, asshole!"_ a few seconds later, Dean's aim is spot on.

When the towel is thrown back at them, Dean spins on his heel and Seth can only watch in amusement as Dean tries to tackle the bigger man from his chair. He can hear them behind him, cursing at each other through their laughter, before things seem to settle down again. As he plates up the breakfast, he can hear the men behind him making small talk about their previous day at work. It's only when he sets the plates down in front of Dean and Roman that the attention turns back to him.

"Weird isn't it?" Dean murmurs. Seth makes a questioning noise, but there's no response. As he sits down with his own plate, he's about to ask what's supposed to be weird when Dean continues, "like. Shit. We only really met a couple hours ago but. It doesn't feel like that. Feels I've known you forever. Just a bit weird."

"It's weird that Seth let you sleep in his bed even though you don't know each other, let alone anything else."

"Only like having a one-night stand, really. Just… we didn't do anything. Just. Y'know. Made out." Dean shrugs.

"It's weird that you were able to keep it in your pants."

"He said he didn't wanna, so we didn't. C'mon dude, give me a bit of credit." Seth continues to listen to them bicker as he finishes his own breakfast. Insults are traded for several minutes, back and forth almost seamlessly as if they've choreographed it. Idly, Seth wonders if he'll ever grow to be as in-sync with them as they are with each other. He hopes he will.

He jumps when a hand lands on his thigh, but doesn't call attention to it. Instead he puts his fork down and tangles their fingers together, glancing up at Dean, who isn't looking at him, but is smiling. A genuine smile. Dimples proudly on show. Roman doesn't notice them, but does turn his attention to Seth.

"Weird that you'd even wanna kiss him. I mean. You're a good-looking guy, y'know? And Dean's… not."

"Hey! That was uncalled for!"

"I think he's plenty good-looking" Seth murmurs, flushing when Dean leans forward to press a kiss against his cheek, muttering something about him being cute. He can't hear it properly thanks to Roman, who resumes his gagging.

Seth rolls his eyes – both at Roman and at Dean, who flips his friend off before deliberately licking a stripe up Seth's neck in a way that shouldn't very nearly elicit a moan. _Definitely_ doesn't – and stands to put the plates in the sink while Dean excuses himself.

"He seems happy. Surprisingly happy, actually. Haven't seen him like that in a long while." Roman notes, following Seth into the kitchen.

"Can't see why I'd have anything to do with that. We've only just met, barely even know each other."

"Seth. I know Dean. He… he's warmed the beds of plenty people, but he never hangs around. He wakes up early and gets the hell out of there before they even stir. But he's still here. He hasn't even tried to escape," Roman glances towards the door into the bedroom, "sometimes people just know when they've found something special. I can see it in your eyes too, y'know. You feel something."

Seth laughs nervously, "didn't know you were some kinda psychologist, reading people's minds and whatever."

"Don't need to be a psychologist. I just know when I met Brad I had the same look on your face. We've been together almost three years now," Roman's head drops to glance at his watch, "I should probably head out, get ready for work."

Seth nods just as Dean walks out of the bedroom, fully dressed in the clothes he stumbled through the window only a couple hours prior. Seth opts not to continue the conversation with Roman, but he knows there's truth in the other man's words. He does feel something with Dean. Something he can't quite explain. It's almost like some kind of magnetic force pulling him in.

"Hey, I'm gonna head out too." Dean announces, striding over and throwing his arm around Seth's shoulders.

"You don't have to leave."

"I know, but I'm gonna get started on a couple cars and hopefully leave early. Maybe take you out for a proper date? A couple drinks?"

"Yeah. Sounds good." Seth replies, unable to stop himself from grinning. Dean grins back in return, a blinding thing that makes Seth's heart stutter.

"Good. I'll swing by about seven-ish?" Seth nods and leans up to close the small gap between them and place a chaste kiss against Dean's lips, just because he wants to, because he can, because Dean actually wants to take him on a date. Just… _because_.

"C'mon, loverboy." Roman laughs as they separate. He grabs Dean by his leather jacket and tugs him towards the door. Seth follows, standing in the doorway as he says goodbye to them – getting several more kisses from Dean who apparently, like Seth, just isn't able to resist – before closing the door.

It isn't till around an hour later – when he's washed the plates, gotten changed and cleaned up the glass from the shattered window – that Seth notices a scrap of paper sitting on the pillow where Dean's head had been not long before, a dent in the material still in the form of his head still there. Seth picks it up and unfolds, frowning at the unfamiliar handwriting. There's two mobile numbers.

He dials the first number, the one with _'guy who fixes windows'_ written in a messy scrawl to the side, an arrow connecting them. Then he adds the second number to his contacts, listing it under _'guy who breaks windows',_ with a grin.

Seth is grinning even more six months later, when he and Dean stand hand-in-hand at Roman and Brad's wedding, trying to convince people that _no_ , they're _not_ lying, they really _did_ meet when Dean came crashing through his window. Which, Seth realises, he never paid to fix.

 _"Play your cards right and I might even spare you the bill for a new window."_ Alright, ok, maybe Seth can let him off on this one.


End file.
